Wizards vs Christmas III: Yes, Alexandra, There Is A Santa Trap
by Save vs. Magic
Summary: Another Christmas Eve, and this time Justin has conceived of the ultimate Yuletide wrong for he, Alex and Max to put right. But, believe it or not, there are some lines even Alex won't cross. Rated K-plus for some mild language. Jalex if you squint really, really hard.


**Summary: **Another Christmas Eve, and this time Justin has conceived of the ultimate Yuletide wrong for he, Alex and Max to put right. But, believe it or not, there are some lines even Alex won't cross. Rated K+ for minor language. Jalex if you really, really squint hard.

**Disclaimer, the first:** For a third year in a row, Santa has utterly ignored my wish to own _Wizards of Waverly Place _and its characters. So, naturally, I don't. Bah, humbug.

**Author's Note:** The third (well, technically fourth) story in my annual _Wizards vs. Christmas_ series. Although you don't have to have read the others to enjoy it, this one does contain minor spoilers for the other two. The spell that's central to the plot here is the invention of my friend and fellow Jalex writer **jlxology**, and comes from his wonderfully crack-tastic WoWP/Battlestar Galactica crossover, _In Space, No One Can Hear You Scream_, which you can find on the justin_alex community on LiveJournal.

Fair warning: this one's a little different than the previous two, for a variety of reasons I'll let you discover for yourselves. I suppose it has the potential to be a little controversial, but I don't think I'm doing anything that's too OOC or outside the confines of canon, here. (See my second Author's Note at the end for more detail.) Please try to keep in mind that I have nothing but the utmost love and respect for all the characters featured herein, real and/or imagined…with the possible exception of Tim Allen, to whom I am mostly indifferent. Absolutely no offense is intended.

And yes, Virginia, that is a sucky title. Believe me, I am quite aware.

* * *

And suddenly, with a bright flash of light and a slight tinkling noise, they appeared, in a warmly decorated loft on Waverly Place.

Snowflakes drifted gently past the large glass doors that led to the terrace, illuminated by the two-thousand twinkle-lights that were strewn along the railing—spelling out, as they had for years, "MAX RUSSO'S HAUZ"—as well as the floodlights thrown onto the giant inflatable gorilla-in-Santa-hat which faced the street. Somewhere on the block, a lone saxophone echoed in the night as it played a slow rendition of _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_, likely taking advantage of the fact that this was the one time of year it could do so without incurring the internet-famous wrath of the Knock It Off Lady. Back n the corner, next to the bookshelf, stood a brightly-lit Christmas tree, its trunk a precisely-measured 90-degree angle to the floor. On one side, shiny glass balls and twinkling glass ornaments—along with the odd _Star Wars_ and _Captain Jim-Bob Sherwood_-themed ornament, and strangely, a few first-place regional science fair medals-had been tastefully and deliberately spaced to ensure maximum coverage and uniformity. On the other, childhood homemade decorations fashioned from tinfoil, tissue paper and macaroni seemed to be scattered almost haphazardly, albeit with an obvious eye towards color theory. Adorning the top was a paper-mache angel—dark-haired, with a slightly bohemian fashion sense, and a mischievous smile to go along with her feathery white wings—holding aloft a 1:100,000,000 scale model of the red dwarf star Wolf 359, being orbited by a very, very tiny Starship Enterprise. (Galaxy Class, not Constitution.)

To the right of this, in the kitchenette of the loft, Max leaned over the counter of the kitchenette with his eyes closed, and inhaled deeply. He smiled as the heavenly aroma enveloped him. Oh man, this was definitely the best batch of freshly-baked triple-chocolate chip cookies that he'd magically conjured into existence yet. Sure, it had taken him ten years of practice to get here, but he was definitely getting the hang of it. Heck, this time he'd even remembered the plate.

Aw yeah, this was totally gonna be the year. The year that Max's Santa Trap was actually gonna work. Even his lucky Magic 8-Ball keychain had said so. And the Magic 8-Ball was _never _wrong, not when it really counted , anyway. And tonight, all signs pointed to yes. (OK, so originally it had said "Answer Hazy, Ask Again Later", but whatever.)

The bear trap had been set out on the terrace, pried open, and enchanted with a triple-reinforced anti-teleportation spell to prevent a certain jolly old elf from flashing himself out of it once he'd been caught. And the magic carpet was primed and ready for aerial recon, now that he was finally permitted to fly it himself. (Granted, it was only supposed to be during daylight hours, with a fully-licensed carpet pilot at his side, but what Mom and Dad didn't know wouldn't get him grounded.) He'd even loaded three different Santa-tracker apps onto his phone, so that he'd definitely know when the big guy was closing in on Waverly Place. This time, he'd thought of everything.

All there was left to do was bait the trap, hence the delicious-smelling plate of freshly-conjured triple-chocolate chip cookies, which Dad had always insisted were Santa's favorite. Which, coincidentally enough, was something that Dad and Santa totally had in common. In fact, the only other time this version of the Santa Trap had been even partially successful was the year Max had come bounding down the spiral staircase at six o'clock on Christmas morning to find a miserable-looking Jerry sitting on the terrace in his Mets T-shirt and sweatpants, shivering and covered with a light dusting of snow.

_"Oops,"_ Max had said, by way of apology, _"wrong old fat dude."_

He'd almost been grounded until well after Easter for that—and would have been, if Mom hadn't insisted that it served Dad right for going off his diet behind her back—but whatever. If nothing else, it proved the Santa Trap had a halfway decent shot of actually working. Proof of concept, as Justin might say.

Grinning to himself, Max picked the still-steaming plate of cookies off the counter and turned to bring them out to the terrace, and nearly collided head-on with Alex at top of the black staircase that led down into the Sub Station. She gave a start, blinked at him in surprise, then let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank God it's just you," she said. "From the smell, I thought you were Mom, for a second."

"What were you doing sneaking around the Sub Station so long after closing?" Max asked.

"Trying to find where Mom and Dad hid my presents, duh! I figured they'd put them somewhere I'd be likely to avoid, which is just about anywhere they expect me to do actual work." Pouting, Alex crossed her arms over her chest, and furrowed her brow. "They weren't in the lair, either, though. Or anywhere at school. Hmm…where else am I always getting yelled at to straighten up and fly right?"

Tapping her bottom lip thoughtfully with one finger, Alex glanced down at the plate Max held in both hands, then rolled her eyes.

"_Again _with the Santa Trap, Max?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "Really?"

"It's gonna work this time, Alex!" Max said. "I can feel it! The 8-Ball said so!"

"Dude, seriously…you're fifteen years old. It's time to give this up. It's embarrassing enough to have one brother who still takes baths and plays with dolls."

_"Action figures!" _Justin called from upstairs. Alex and Max glanced up to the third floor above, where Justin poked his head out of his room to scowl though the standards of the yellow railing at them. "And for the last time, I never actually play with them! Removing them from their mint-condition packaging would dramatically lower their collectible value! Hello!"

"Oh come on, Justin," Alex scoffed. "Like you've never even once taken Calico Woman out of her box to check out her points of articulation?"

Justin snorted. "Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. She'd be no good to me loose."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Alex smirked. "Even loose as can be, she still wouldn't let a hopeless dork like you get anywhere with her."

Flushing darkly, Justin opened his mouth to protest, then apparently thought better of it and closed it again with an audible clicking of teeth. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and pointed at her.

"Just warm up the DVD player and be ready to go," he said. "I'll be down in thirty seconds."

With that, he jerked his head back into his room, then slammed the door shut behind it. Alex smirk widened as she watched it for a moment before dropping her eyes back to Max, who frowned at her in confusion.

"Points of articulation?" he asked.

"Yeah, I know," Alex said with a shrug, as she snatched a cookie off the top of his plate. "But sometimes you have to use nerd-speak to hit him where it really hurts. It pays off in the long run, trust me."

"Uh, don't eat that!" Max said, nearly spilling the entire plate of cookies as his hand snaked out to grab her wrist, before she could bring the stolen cookie to her lips. "Not unless you wanna get wrapped in up inviso-chains the second they hit your stomach."

Alex cocked an eyebrow at him. "What, seriously? The bear trap wasn't enough? You _cursed _the cookies?"

"Damn skippy," Max nodded. "I am taking _no _chances this year."

Alex stared at him quietly for a long moment, then let out a breath and placed her free hand gently over his.

"Max, look…I know that, when you were five, I said that if you could manage to catch Santa in the act, he'd have to give you all the presents in his sleigh. And, don't get me wrong, it's been a lot of fun watching you go through this, year after year after year. I think my favorite was the Christmas we all came downstairs and found Uncle Kelbo, bound and gagged, dangling upside-down from the ceiling in the living room…"

"Yeah, that was the year I finally decided snare traps were too unreliable," Max said. "Also the last year that Uncle Kelbo stayed with us for Christmas."

"AKA what mom calls 'the gift that keeps on giving', yeah," Alex nodded. She squeezed his wrist tightly. "But listen, Max…I think it's about time that I told you something. Time for you to finally hear the truth."

"The truth?" Max frowned, puzzled. "What, from _you_?"

_"READY!"_ Justin called from upstairs, as he threw his door back open and strode out into the hallway. "Get set to hold on to your proverbial hats, siblings, because this year I have come up with the greatest of yuletide wrongs to _ever_ befall mankind in the recorded history of Christmas, for _us _to set right."

"Woah," Max said, his mouth falling open as Justin started down the stairs towards them, and he got his first good look at his big brother.

"Oh, holy crap!" Alex gasped next to him.

"I know! Exciting, isn't it?" Justin grinned. "I mean it, this one is so good, I don't even know how I'm going to top it next year!"

He stopped at the bottom of the steps, a few feet before them, then spread his arms wide, beaming.

"Huh? _Huh?_" he asked. "Well, what do you think?"

Max and Alex looked from him, to each other, and back again.

"Is that…your Jedi cape?" Alex asked. "Over one of grandma's night dresses?"

"Why are you wearing a tea towel strapped to your head?" Max added. "Is that one of the good ones we use when company comes over? 'Cause Mom's gonna be pissed..."

"And what's with the big wooden hook?" Alex continued, shaking her head as she looked him up and down. "And the sandals? Dude, if we're going to some kind of Christmas-themed toga party, I think you're doing it wrong…"

"Guys…no!" Justin huffed impatiently before continuing in his patented 'my siblings are idiots' voice. "Haven't you ever seen anyone dressed like this before? Especially this time of year? Out front of Church, maybe?"

Alex and Max eyed him silently for a moment—Justin spreading his arms wide again and gesturing pointedly with the big wooden hook—before Alex finally snapped her fingers and pointed at him.

"Ooo, I've got it!" she said. "Old Rummy Joe, that old homeless dude who picks through the Salvation Army donation box in the parking lot every Sunday!"

"No, it's not him!" Max scoffed. "For one thing, Old Rummy Joe wears pants, usually. And do you see a rusty shopping cart with a broken wheel around here anywhere?" "

A SHEPHERD!" Justin shouted before Alex could answer, exasperated. "ARE YOU PEOPLE BLIND? I'M OBVIOUSLY A CHRISTMAS SHEPHERD!"

"A Christmas shepherd?" Max repeated, staring back blankly at him. "You mean shepherds have to work on Christmas? That's bunk."

"Maybe they're not union," Alex shrugged, then frowned at Justin. "Hey wait, that's not your big idea, is it? Jumping into a movie to organize some kind of sheep herder labor protest? Because, dude…lame."

"NO, WE ARE NOT GOING TO—!" Justin broke off, wrenched his eyes shut, took a deep breath and inwardly counted to ten. Without opening them, he reached into his brown, hooded robe, and rummaged around for a moment before finally pulling out a DVD case, which he presented to Alex.

"This," he said, his voice quivering. "_This_ is the movie we're jumping into, and _this _what we're going to fix."

"_The Nativity Story_?" Alex asked, reading the title off the front of the case. She looked up at Justin as though there were rutabagas growing out of his nose. "You wanna fix _this_? What are you, high?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking I'm not the only one who whipped up a plate of 'special' baked goods tonight," Max said, elbowing her in the ribs. "If you know what I mean."

"Guys, think about it for a second!" said Justin. "It's the ultimate Christmas injustice! Imagine being heavily pregnant, far from home in a strange, crowded city, having spent weeks traveling there on the back of a donkey, and being turned away from every single inn you try to check into!"

"Oh, for the love of peace and justice," Alex groaned, holding up one hand. "Justin, wait. I see where you're going with this, but—"

"Imagine that the only place you can find," Justin continued on, ignoring her, "for you and the mother of your unborn child to spend the night is a cold, smelly, dirty stable, filled with animals. And then, just as you're settling down in the bacteria-filled hay—" Justin snapped his fingers—"her water breaks, and she's forced to give birth there! In a completely unsterilized environment! Without any trained medical personnel, or even a midwife on hand to assist!"

"Wait, how do you break water?" Max asked. "Was it, like, in a jug, or something?"

"And then where do you have to put the baby after it's born? A crib? A cradle? A bassinet? Nonono, you don't have any of those! Not in this filthy, disease-ridden stable you've been forced into. You have to put him in a _manger_. Does either of you even know what a manger _is_?"

Max glanced over at Alex, who was looking up at the ceiling and shaking her head, clearly wishing she were anywhere else than right here, having this particular conversation. No help there.

"Um…" Max ventured, "it's the…place where you…mange?"

"It's the trough that the animals _eat_ from!" Justin cried out, his voice going all high-pitched and scandalized. "Can you believe it? It's _completely_ unsanitary, unfit or _any_ baby…much less, y'know, _Him_! And don't even get me started about cutting the umbilical cord, because if there were _ever _a recipe for infection-"

"OK, OK, stop," Alex snapped. Thrusting the DVD case at Max, she stepped forward and laid a hand on Justin's shoulder. "First of all? You're seriously starting to gross me out. And second? Justin, remember after that whole thing with Max's tutor, Tutor? And how we promised to let each other know when we'd taken things too far?"

"Uh huh…?" Justin said, eying her uncertainly.

"Yeah, hi, this is me letting you know!" Alex said, waving at him. "This whole plan of yours? It's nuts. What are you gonna do, go back in time and book them a reservation on Expedia? Or just flash them to the nearest HMO?"

"But Alex, it's not like I'm talking about going back in time to fix it for _real_," Justin protested. "I'm talking about fixing it in a movie. This is really no different than bringing Mr. Potter to justice in _It's a Wonderful Life_, or making sure Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer isn't ostracized for years just for being different."

"Uh yes, it is! We're not talking about some made-up story with autoerotic reindeer, here!"

"You mean _animatronic_, not—you do that on purpose, don't you?"

"There are some lines you don't cross, Justin. Some things you don't mess with. I'm pretty sure _this_ is one of them. And that's coming from _me_. I mean, when have you ever heard me say _that _before?"

"Look, either way, one thing's for certain," Max said, putting himself between them. "And that, from the looks of the cover art here, is that Mary is freakin' hot. And she looks to be about my age, too." He handed the DVD back to Justin. "So _I'm _in."

"_What?!_" Justin gaped at him. "But she's…that's…virgin…wrong…MAX!"

"Aha!" Alex said, stepping right up to him, chin jut out in defiance, eyes narrowed. "So you admit that this one is _more _than just a movie!"

"Movie or not, if he hits on the Virgin Mary, I'm pretty sure he's going to H-E-double-hockey-sticks!"

"Exactly. Just like _we _might if we mess with anything else in the...divine plan, or whatever you wanna call it!" Alex nodded at her younger brother. "Way to make my point for me, Max."

"Hey, no problem," Max nodded back. "What point was that, again?"

"That messing around with God-stuff—even in a movie—would be, y'know, sacrilicious!"

"_Sacrilegious,_" Justin corrected her in his overly-patient voice. "The word is _sacrilegious_. And since when do you care about that kind of thing?"

"Hey, I may be a low- to medium-grade misanthrope," Alex said, putting her hands on her hips. "But I make a point of drawing the line at anything that a penance of three _Hail Mary's_ and an _Our Father _won't get me out of, OK? The mark of any good criminal genius is the know-how to stay off the radar!"

Justin watched her for a moment, then sighed and reached up to pull the cloth off his head, revealing his carefully coiffed dark hair beneath.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen this side of you before," he said quietly. Then, with a small chuckle, he added: "Misanthrope? Really?"

"Oh, whatever," Alex said, blushing ever so slightly. "Sometimes I have to resort to nerd-speak to get you to pay attention to what I'm saying."

"So then she can hit you where it hurts," Max added. "It pays off in the long run."

Both Alex and Justin scowled at him for a split second before turning back to each other.

"I just wanted to help them find a clean room, and maybe help a little with the birth, a little," Justin said. "Is it really so wrong for me to want them to be warm and comfortable and…disease-free?"

"No, of course not," Alex sighed. "But Justin…you keep trying to fix things that aren't really broken. George Bailey got his happy ending whether or not Mr. Potter ever got caught, because what happened to him wasn't the point. Yeah, Rudolph's life sucked for a bit, but then all the reindeer loved him by the end of the song, right? The same thing goes here: what would you _really _be fixing? I don't know if you know this, but I've read that it actually turns out OK. Nobody gets gangrene and has an arm fall off, or anything, anyway."

Justin shrugged one shoulder, then cocked an eyebrow at her. "Wait, you really read something?"

"Read, heard, saw in a cartoon I was forced to watch in Sunday school when I was four, whatever," Alex said, waving one hand dismissively. Then she blinked as a sudden thought struck her, and snapped her fingers. "Sunday school! _That's _where they've hidden my presents!"

Justin stared at her blankly for a moment, then chuckled and shook his head. He tossed the unopened DVD cover onto the orange couch, then leaned his shepherd's crook against the back of it, and started to shrug off his brown, hooded Jedi robe. "Well, that's my brilliant plan for tonight out the window. Anyone else got any bright ideas?"

"Awww, so we're really not gonna go meet Hot Mary after all?" Max asked, shoulders slumped. "That's bunk."

"Please stop calling her that," Justin said with a wince.

"Hey, I've got an idea for a Christmas injustice we can fix," Alex said, a mischievous glint in her eye as she smiled from one brother to the other. "Max has been setting out his Santa Trap for ten years straight without ever having caught him. I think _that's _bunk."

"Hmm," Justin said, narrowing his eyes and stroking his chin as he considered this. "You know, the first Christmas Eve that Tim Allen has to do the whole Santa thing in _The Santa Clause_, he's pretty clueless about it. He _might _just fall for it."

Max gasped, and grabbed his older brother by the elbow. "Really? You think so?"

"Well, it's a technicality, but I think it would count," Justin nodded. He glanced over at Alex. "I'm not sure that laying a trap for _Saint Nicholas _really counts as 'staying of the radar', though."

"Enh, six _Hail Mary's _at most," Alex said, with a wink at Justin. "What do you say, Max? Wanna give it a try?"

"Hang on, lemme check!" Max shoved the plate of cookies at Justin, then dug his hands into his pockets. Out of the left, he pulled a crumbling, petrified lizard, while out of the right, he pulled his lucky Magic 8-Ball keychain. Shoving the dead lizard back into his pocket, he wrapped both hands around the miniature 8-Ball, closed his eyes and murmured something to himself, then shook it frantically and turned it over.

"OUTLOOK GOOD!" he shouted, thrusting one fist into the air triumphantly. Grinning widely at each of his siblings, he shoved it back into his pocket before turning and running towards the terrace. "I'LL GET THE BEAR TRAP!

"I'll pop in the DVD," Alex said, heading for the TV.

"And I'll, um, put some pants on," Justin said. He frowned down at the plate that had been thrust into his hands. "Hey wait, what are these for?"

"Oh, Max made those for you," Alex said before Max could answer, without turning around. "Help yourself."

Justin blinked in surprise, then happily picked a still-warm cookie up off the plate, and took a large bite. He didn't often allow himself the luxury of cookies, much less triple-chocolate-chip ones, but what the hey? It was Christmas Eve, after all.

Five minutes later, wand in hand, Alex stood between her brothers in front of the TV, and linked her arms through theirs. It was a little difficult in Justin's case, what with his arms being pinned to his sides and all, but she managed.

"Very funny, Alex," he groused, straining against the inviso-chains. "Now let me out of these things!"

"Stop struggling, already, or you'll activate the invisible buzz saws," she said, raising her wand. "Everybody ready?"

"Ready!" Max grinned, holding up the plate of cookies in one hand, and the enchanted bear trap in the other. "Man, this is gonna be the best Christmas!"

"Wait! Wait! _I'm_ not ready!" Justin yelled. "Not only am I chained up, but I'm _still _not wearing any pants!"

"Best Christmas _ever_!" Alex nodded with a grin, as she twisted her wand in a tight circle. "_Literarium Terrarium Activa!"_

And suddenly, with a bright flash of light and a slight tinkling noise, they were gone.

**—30—**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER, THE SECOND:** Uh, yeah…so obviously the characters from the 1996 New Line Cinema film _The Nativity Story_ don't belong to me, either. And neither do Tim Allen and the _Santa Clause _either, in case that wasn't clear.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE, THE SECOND:** While it's never been explicitly stated what religion the Russos are on the show, there are St. Gabriel candles in the lair, and Max makes reference to his "church shoes" in _Wizards vs. Werewolves_. Given that they're also Hispanic/Italian, I'm extrapolating that the kids have more than likely been raised Catholic (though not necessarily the most devout), so it doesn't feel too OOC to me for both Alex and Justin to have strong(ish) feelings about the Nativity story, and the idea of messing with it. Naturally, your mileage may vary.

Apropos of absolutely nothing, apart from the hours of Christmas music I've been listening to while writing this: why the hell doesn't Selena Gomez have a Christmas album that I can purchase? (Hey Santa, I'm looking at you!)

And I guess that about wraps it up for this year! Thanks as always for reading! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!


End file.
